Sweet Sacrifice
by little rosebud
Summary: Castiel had given everything for him. The least Dean could do was look at the result of such devotion and hate himself for it. DeanxCastiel. Takes place after episode 5x10. Beware of spoilers!


**A/N: **Hi everyone!

This is my first Supernatural story, and I'm thrilled to finally write into this fandom! :)

So, the pairing for this story is Dean/Cas. This story contains implied homosexual situations, violence, blood, heavy language... so if it's not your cup of tea, I'd suggest you go back from where you came. You've been warned!

This story takes place in season 5, soon after episode 5x10. So be warned for spoilers up to that episode!

I don't own the characters, nor do I make any profit from this. This fic is solely written out of my love for the characters.

So that's it! Enjoy!

* * *

**Sweet Sacrifice**

**Chapter 1: Painful sacrifice**

Dean groaned low in his throat and the first thing he was aware of when he came back to his senses was a throbbing pain pounding in his skull. His eyes slowly fluttered open, but his vision was blurred and unfocused. The hunter blinked a couple of times to get his vision straight and when he did, he could finally take in his surroundings.

Dean was in what seemed to be an old, abandoned warehouse. There were only a few windows, which permitted next to no rays of daylight to illuminate the inside of the warehouse. His eyebrows knitted in confusion and he tried to move, only to feel something restraining his wrists and preventing him to move his arms.

Dean jerked his face around, wincing at the sudden pain exploding in his head at the movement, but he paid it no further mind. The hunter cursed when he finally took in his position; he was sitting on a chair, his feet tied to the wooden legs of the chair and his wrists securely tied behind his back against the back of the chair.

He did not need to be a genius to understand that he was in trouble.

Dean searched his memory, tried to recall how he ended up here and who was the son of a bitch who dared to kidnap him. However, his mind was coming empty, which frustrated him. The hunter harshly pulled at his restraints, trying to free himself. Even if he knew it was surely no use, there was no way he was going to go down without a fight, without trying to get free.

After a good five minutes of pulling against the restrains with no other result than to hurt his wrists, Dean suddenly stopped and, his eyes filled with anger, he shouted in the silence of the warehouse; "Stop hiding and show yourself, you son of a bitch!"

Silence answered the hunter. Truth be told, Dean had not expected anyone to answer his call. He growled in frustration and was about to go back to trying to get free when the sudden sound of rustling feathers resounded in the empty warehouse. Dean snapped his face around and his sight was suddenly filled with the last person he wanted to see right now, someone who had been pissing him off more and more each time they met.

Zachariah.

The angel was standing not more than a foot away from Dean, smiling at him in such a way that the hunter wanted nothing else than to rip it from his face.

"Hello, Dean," Zachariah greeted him calmly, his voice holding an edge of satisfaction and amusement.

Dean glared at his enemy and growled dangerously.

"You son of a bitch! I'm not in the mood to play your stupid games right now!" he spat out angrily.

Seeing the angel had suddenly refreshed Dean's memories. Night had fallen and Dean had left Sam alone in their motel room for he was in need of booze and possibly a potential one-night stand to drown his worries and sorrow. With Michael looming over his head threatening to take over his body and the thought of Lucifer being after his brother, he had needed the distraction.

Dean had been on his way to the local bar when he had suddenly felt a presence behind him while he walked in an empty alleyway. He had turned around and before he had the time to see the identity of his stalker, he had been grabbed roughly and his head had been smashed violently against the wall, making him lose consciousness.

Knowing the bastard who had done that to him was Zachariah was only making him angrier.

Zachariah merely kept on smiling calmly, visibly not impressed at all by his prisoner's fit of anger. He took a step forward and bent down to get eye level with Dean.

"You're not the one in command right now, Dean. You will play my 'games', whether you like it or not. I've got about enough of your self-righteous stubbornness," he replied, a hint of annoyance showing in his voice.

Dean snorted and a smirk stretched across his lips, which made the angel frown with displeasure.

"You know what? Go screw yourself for all I care. If you think I'll say yes to Michael, you're more stupid than I took you for. Which says a lot, by the way," the hunter replied mockingly.

Zachariah shook his head and his infuriating smile returned.

"Oh, you will say yes, trust me. I happen to have very persuasive means," the angel replied in a dark whisper.

Dean stayed silent, taking in Zachariah's words and their meaning. Soon enough, the human laughed, but his voice was devoid of any humor.

"If you're talking about torture, you can forget it. Nothing you'll do to me will be worse than what I went through in hell. Bring it on," the hunter said with a dark conviction.

He meant what he said. The pain and torture that had been inflicted upon him back then for forty years was a hundred times worse than anything he came to know in this world. Sadly, it made Dean stronger, made him able to withstand any torture inflicted on him. Zachariah would not be able to break him no matter how hard he would try.

Zachariah suddenly laughed and patted Dean's cheek. The latter brusquely jerked his face away from the infuriating touch and glared at his enemy. The angel straightened up and buried in hands in the pockets of his suit.

"Dean, Dean, Dean. Do you really think me this stupid? I know you more than you can think, boy. I can read into your mind. I know your greatest weakness," Zachariah said in a confident tone.

Dean grew still and stared at the angel, fearing the next words that would come out of his enemy's mouth. Zachariah's smile turned victorious, almost carnivorous as he held the hunter's burning gaze.

"It's your need to protect those that you love. When they are in danger, you happen to lose all composure and tend to sacrifice yourself if it can save your precious ones," Zachariah said with the conviction of someone who knew he was telling the truth.

Dean's entire complexion turned pale and he stared wordlessly at the angel, feeling cold dread seep under his skin. He knew what Zachariah's intentions were now, and the angel did not wrong him. The latter began to circle Dean slowly, a cocky smile on his lips. When he was behind Dean, he put his hands on the top of the chair on each side of the hunter's shoulders and leaned down to whisper in his ear;

"So, who should it be? Your dear brother Samuel? Bobby Singer? Or maybe that insufferable Castiel?"

At those words, a surge of rage burst out from inside Dean. He trashed violently against his restraints, wanting nothing more but to get free and punch the bastard in the face for even thinking about hurting them.

"If you touch them, I swear I'll rip you apart!" Dean roared with fury, craning his neck to glare at the angel.

He would not let anyone touch a hair on their heads!

Zachariah was not fazed by his prisoner's anger. Instead, he seemed to revel in it. His hand shot up towards Dean and plunged into his coat's pocket. Dean was so surprised that he did not even have the time to react before the angel had fished out his cell phone.

"Hey, give that back!" Dean exclaimed, pulling even harder against his restraints.

Zachariah ignored him as he put the phone into his own pocket. He then walked away from the hunter and stopped a few feet in front of him, turning his back to Dean.

Zachariah lifted the sleeve of his suit and pulled out a knife from his pocket. Dean could not see what he was doing after that, but he saw the angel's arm move and once he saw blood drip onto the floor, he realized he was carving something into his flesh, surely an angel's symbol of some sort. Soon, Zachariah's voice rose quietly in the warehouse, chanting words in a language foreign to Dean but that he recognized: enochian.

Dean frowned, not liking this one bit. He did not know what the angel was doing, but he knew it was nothing good and therefore he had to stop it. He pulled harshly on his restrains again, and when he knew it was a lost cause, he looked around in the hopes of finding something to use to cut the rope. He quickly realized there was nothing to be found in the empty warehouse. Dean turned his gaze back on Zachariah, who was still chanting in enochian.

"Hey! It's not nice to ignore your guest you know!" he shouted, trying to break his concentration.

However, he should have known better than to hope it would disturb his enemy. Zachariah kept on the chant and the carvings into his flesh, completely ignoring Dean's attempts to break his concentration.

Zachariah suddenly stopped and Dean realized with dread that he had completed whatever he was doing. The angel pulled down his sleeve and when he turned around to face Dean with an insufferable smile on his lips, the hunter growled in annoyance at him.

"What did you just do, you junkless son of a bitch?!" he seethed angrily.

Zachariah took no offense in Dean's words. He merely answered calmly while he slowly took Dean's phone out of his pocket.

"Such bad language. No matter. I merely took a small precaution before his arrival. It would not do much good if he was to slip through my fingers again," he explained.

A sickening feeling of apprehension settled in Dean's gut as he suddenly understood who exactly Zachariah was planning on luring here. He would not let him do that! Dean opened his mouth to try and taunt the bastard, but the latter made a sharp movement of his wrist and the hunter's voice refused to come out. He tried again and again to shout, but it was no use. Dean glared at Zachariah in frustration. The latter merely smiled.

"Now that's better. Let's see...," he said, opening the cell phone and looking over Dean's contacts.

"Oh, just the one I was looking for. I'll be able to finally settle the score," the angel whispered darkly.

Dean grew still, his heart beating madly in his chest. He prayed that the angel had not chosen the one he thought. If it really was _him_, then Dean would not have any time to try and warn him. Dean could not tear his gaze away from Zachariah while the angel dialed the number and put the phone to his ear.

The tone ringed for a few times and Dean prayed that no one would pick up. His heart sank in his chest when he clearly heard a voice on the other side, Zachariah having put the call on speaker.

"_Hello?" _

Dean would recognize that deep, raspy voice everywhere. And with it, he felt his worst fears come to pass.

Castiel.

Zachariah was pulling him right into a trap! Dean hoped his angel would not come, that he would understand it was a trap.

"Cas, it's me, Dean," Zachariah answered, his voice morphed into an exact replica of Dean's.

Not only that, but the way he just talked was exactly like Dean always talked. Dean understood in a second that there was not a chance in hell his angel would see the difference. The hunter began to furiously pull at the ropes again, wincing when his irritated skin chaffed and broke, and blood began to run down his wrists.

"_Dean? Is something the matter?" _Castiel's voice resounded through the speaker, and Dean could hear the worry in it, like every time Cas thought Dean was wounded or in trouble lately.

Dean's eyes grew impossibly wide with fear and anger, and Zachariah merely smirked maliciously in return. Dean wanted to rip his head off, he wanted to stab him to death, to make him suffer for this! But more than the anger, Dean felt an endless desperation and helplessness settle in his gut. Here Castiel was about to fall into a trap and he could not do a goddamn thing to prevent it from happening!

"Yeah, you could say that. I'd need your help with a case. Do you think you could drop by?" Zachariah went on, answering Castiel like the real Dean would usually do.

Dean felt his heart stop in his chest when he heard his angel say; _"Where are you right now?"_

Zachariah's smile grew devious and he stared right into Dean's horrified gaze.

"I'm at 4032 Welton Street, Wichita, Kansas," he said in almost a whisper.

"_I'll be right there."_

Castiel's answer felt like a weight had settled into the hunter's gut and he almost felt the urge to throw up. Panic rose in his chest. Zachariah hung up and closed the cell, throwing it at Dean's feet. He made another gesture with his wrist and suddenly, the hunter could talk again. Dean threw daggers at his enemy and pulled harshly against his restrains.

"You bastard! I'll fucking kill you! Don't you dare lay a hand on him!" he raged, every muscle in his body straining to lash at the angel smiling down at him.

Zachariah merely laughed in return. "Please, enough already, Dean. You can't stop it now," he said just before the sound of flapping wings resounded and Zachariah was suddenly gone.

Dean did not even have the time to blink that the sound of wings resounded again and this time, Castiel appeared in front of him, almost in the spot the older angel had been standing in. Castiel's electric blue eyes were immediately attracted to Dean and when he took in his precarious situation, he frowned and cocked his head slightly to the side.

"Dean?" he said with slight surprise and confusion.

Once he got over the shock of seeing Castiel standing there in a flash, the hunter quickly exclaimed in a desperate tone; "Cas, get out of here! It's a trap!"

At the same moment Castiel understood what Dean had just said, Zachariah appeared behind him in a flutter of wings. Castiel's eyes widened slightly and he turned around quickly, in time to see the flash of an angel's blade aiming at him.

Castiel stepped out of the way of a fatal wound at the last second, but his arm suffered the blow. The sword slashed deeply into the flesh of his arm and Castiel stumbled backwards, glaring at Zachariah who merely smiled at his subordinate.

"Well, hello Castiel. I'm glad you could make it," he said in a calm tone.

Castiel stayed silent and glared at the older angel. He did not seem to mind the blood rolling down his arm and onto the ground.

Zachariah's smile twisted into a grimace. "You're not even greeting back? I see your human has rubbed off on you," he said darkly.

Castiel's features became even more menacing and he finally talked.

"You should flee this place right now if you don't want to get hurt," he seethed in such a threatening voice that it sent shills down Dean's back.

Castiel quickly drew his own angel-killing blade, pointing it towards Zachariah. The latter did not flinch. Instead, he merely smiled victoriously and swiftly pulled up the sleeve of his suit. Castiel frowned, but when he saw the complicated symbol carved in Zachariah's skin there, his eyes widened in comprehension and fright.

"It's too late," Zachariah stated and quickly swiped his fingers into Castiel's blood smeared on his blade.

Before Castiel could do anything, his superior pressed his bloodied fingers against the symbol, which started to glow.

Castiel's body huddled on itself as if he had been struck in the stomach and he collapsed harshly on his knees, gasping in pain. Zachariah grabbed the hair at the back of Castiel's head and lifted his face towards him. Castiel's blue eyes were raging with anger and shame at being brought to his knees in front of his enemy. Satisfaction gleamed in Zachariah's gaze.

"Let the fun begin," he whispered.

Dean was watching the scene, helpless to do anything. Zachariah suddenly began to chant something in enochian. Castiel's entire body doubled over in pain and Zachariah released him as he kept on chanting the words. Castiel's arms flew around himself and his body shook all over as if he was trying hard to contain something inside of him. Castiel turned pained eyes on Dean, who was completely stunned, looking at his angel with utter confusion and horror.

"Dean... shut your eyes!" he exclaimed in a pained, broken voice.

Dean understood what was about to happen. However, he could not tear his gaze away from his friend, who was obviously in agonizing pain, all because of him.

Suddenly, Castiel's body began to glow a bright, pure white light, which became stronger and stronger by the second, until Dean had no choice but to close his already hurting eyes. Over the continuous enochian chant, a strident, agonizing scream left Castiel's throat, and the pain in his voice broke the hunter's heart in millions of pieces.

"Stop it, you bastard! Stop!" Dean screamed, but his voice was covered by Castiel's screams, growing so strident and shrilling that Deans' ears hurt.

His angel's voice sounded now exactly like the time he tried to talk to Dean in his real form, right after he had dragged him out of hell.

The light grew even more vivid, hurting Dean's eyes even through his closed lids. Castiel's heart-shattering screams broke the windows of the warehouse and hurt Dean's ears so much that the hunter screamed in pain.

Castiel abruptly stopped screaming and the light faded as quickly as it came. Silence filled the warehouse and Dean fought to open his hurting eyes. He felt blood run down from his damaged ears, but he did not pay any attention to that. He was too worried about Castiel, even more so since he did not know what Zachariah had done to him.

When Dean managed to open his eyes, he felt his heart stop in his chest at the sight that welcomed him. Castiel was lying on the ground, curled up on himself. Embracing him in a protective stance were too gigantic, magnificent wings. _Castiel's wings. _

Dean had seen only a shadow of them once and he never thought he would see the real thing one day, or at least a manifestation of them. But here they were, flapping desperately around Castiel, the midnight black feathers rustling as if in pain. Despite the desperation of the situation, Dean found himself thinking those wings were stunningly beautiful, more so than anything he had ever laid eyes upon.

Once he got over his shock at seeing Castiel's wings, Dean's anger quickly took over and he glared at Zachariah, who was standing above Castiel with a smirk.

"Son of a bitch! What did you do to him?!" he exclaimed angrily.

Zachariah looked at him for a split second before returning his attention on the angel curled at his feet.

"Nothing yet. I merely forced his grace to react and manifest itself. Now I'll be able to do this," he seethed darkly.

Zachariah started another chant, and the intonation of it sent dark chills down Dean's spine. He did not know what it was about, but one thing was sure in his mind: it was nothing good. Castiel's entire body suddenly shuddered and his back arched in pain while a scream of agony left his throat.

"Cas!" Dean screamed, panicked at seeing his friend in even more pain.

Zachariah pulled out a small vial from one of his pockets, and Dean recognized it; it was the same kind of vial that had contained Anna's lost grace. The hunter suddenly understood what was happening.

"Stop it, you son of a bitch!" he yelled with desperation.

Zachariah ignored him and kept chanting, his voice growing stronger and stronger. Soon, Castiel trashed on the ground in agony and a pure white light escaped his mouth and eyes, slowly drifting to Zachariah to nestle in the vial. The martyred angel screamed and screamed while his body and wings trashed in pain and Dean wished with all his might that he could do something, _anything_ to make it stop.

He could not bear to see his angel in such pain! His grace was being torn away from him! The hunter struggled so hard against his restrains that he felt more blood run down his wrists and hands. He would not let that happen! He had to do something!

"_Stop ittt!"_ he screamed with desperation just as the last stray of light left Castiel to join the rest of his grace now trapped in the vial.

Castiel collapsed on his side on the ground, his wings twitching one last time before stilling around their now unconscious owner. At least, Dean wanted to believe Castiel was only unconscious. Just the thought that he might be dead was making bile rise in his throat.

Zachariah closed the vial and looked at it with a pleased expression before pocketing it. He then bent down and grabbed Castiel's arm, pulling him up a little. Castiel's head lolled lifelessly against his chest and Zachariah laughed.

"He's nothing more than a fragile mud-monkey, now. Just where I wanted him," he said more to himself than to Dean, who was by now boiling with such anger that he had never felt before.

"You're going to pay for this! I'm going to kill you and take back his grace!" he roared with fury.

Zachariah snorted with annoyance. "Now, now. You should behave Dean, because I'm far from done. Now, we'll see how long you'll last before you say yes to Michael. Or rather, should I say how long Castiel will last," he replied.

Apprehension rose inside Dean as he understood what was coming; Zachariah would torture Castiel before his very eyes. That was the true purpose of stealing his grace; by making Castiel a mere mortal, he would be subject to the agonizing pain the humans could feel. Just the thought of it was enough to make the hunter panic.

He watched helplessly as Zachariah snapped his fingers and the ground around Castiel caved down, revealing heavy chains stuck into the ground there. Zachariah snapped his fingers again and Castiel's clothes vanished, leaving him naked and shivering on the cold ground. Dean's anger deepened at the sight of his angel in such a vulnerable state. Zachariah then proceeded in shackling Castiel's wrists and neck.

Dean struggled against his restrains in pure fury. How dare that bastard do that to his angel! Zachariah looked over at the hunter who was ready to jump at his throat. He merely smirked before yanking Castiel's head harshly from the ground, who was still unconscious.

"Now the real fun will begin," he announced and harshly slapped Castiel across the face.

It woke up Castiel who gasped in pain and looked around, disoriented. His eyes met Dean's pained gaze before lifting up to look at Zachariah and he recalled what just happened. The older angel had stolen his grace, and thus, he was but a mere human right now. He shivered from the cold he felt and finally realized he was naked.

Such exposure made him feel ashamed and vulnerable beyond belief. His wings came to encircle his body as best they could to shield him from prying eyes.

Castiel glared at his superior, which made Zachariah smile in return.

"Don't look at me like that, Castiel. It his merely your just punishment for rebelling against us," he said with dark satisfaction.

Zachariah snapped his fingers and Dean heard a sickening sound as Castiel's right wrist broke. The former angel let out a pained cry and collapsed on the ground, his injured wrist not able to hold his weight anymore.

"Cas! Leave him alone, you junkless coward!" Dean exclaimed, his heart breaking into pieces as he saw his angel breathe heavily, lying on the cold ground and shivering from the pain.

Zachariah snorted in disgust. "Why should I? You know what I want and I won't stop until I get that yes! Castiel is your weakness. Why not use him to force you to finally accept your role? The more you wait, the more hurt he will get," the older angel stated calmly before looking intently at Castiel.

A second later, Castiel jerked violently and vomited blood. The martyred ex-angel whined in pain, clutching his stomach to try and lessen his suffering.

Zachariah laughed coldly and leaned towards his prisoner. "So, how does it feel? You've never felt pain as a human, right? I'm sure it is unbearable," he said and snapped his fingers again.

This time, it resulted in a few broken ribs and another heart-breaking scream escaped Castiel's throat. Dean could only watch, helplessly, as his angel was tortured in front of his eyes; he watched as one of his lungs was pierced, as all the bones in one of his legs were broken, as all the fingers of his left hand got crushed.

The screams of pain Castiel made were intolerable; they were shooting right into his heart, making it bleed with sorrow and pain. Dean could not take it anymore! Nothing could be worse than to see Castiel suffer so much!

"Stop it! I'll –" he began, but he never had the time to finish the sentence that would have ended Castiel's misery. Castiel snapped his face towards Dean, and his blues eyes filled with pain bore into his very soul.

"Dean, no!"

His tone, even broken with pain, held that commanding tone that Dean knew by heart. His breathing was harsh and shallow by now. The hunter clenched his teeth hard, trying to control his emotions, but it was impossible to do.

"Cas, I can't watch this anymore," he whispered with pained-filled eyes.

Castiel bit his lip hard to stifle a moan of pain and his eyes held Dean's with a conviction and determination made of steel.

"I will never forgive you if you say yes," he whispered painfully.

That simple sentence was enough to make shame and desperation fill the hunter. He clenched his teeth hard to block out the words he had wanted to say. He knew he could not say yes now. God save him, he knew he could not and he knew it meant more suffering for Castiel. He would never forgive himself for that.

Castiel's gaze softened when he saw the conflict in the human's eyes. He was glad he was not considering giving up anymore. At least for now.

Zachariah's face hardened. "Okay, then. It would seem Castiel did not go through enough pain to change your mind. Let's remedy to that," he said coldly.

Castiel heard the sound of an angel's blade being drawn. He turned his face to look at Zachariah just when the latter roughly grabbed his right wing. Castiel hissed in pain, his wings being highly sensitive. He flapped them harshly, desperately trying to shake Zachariah off him.

The latter quickly drove the knife through the thick muscle of the wing. Castiel screamed in agony at the pain flaring through his wing. He tried to jerk away from Zachariah, but the older angel yanked on the chain around his neck, keeping him in place.

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere, my little pet," he said and twisted the knife into the flesh of Castiel's wing muscle, tearing another scream of pain from his throat.

Watching the scene helplessly, Dean struggled like a madman against his restrains, wanting nothing more but to stop everything. Seeing the hunter's distress, Zachariah took his time, wounding Castiel's beautiful wings again and again, reveling in the way the former angel writhed and trashed against him, screaming his throat raw with each new wound inflicted on his precious wings.

Zachariah reveled in his power over Castiel, who had brought shame upon him more than once for outsmarting him and getting in his way.

He wanted to hurt him, to defile him, to destroy him.

When Zachariah removed the blade, Castiel was but a shaking mess on the ground, his wings flapping weakly in pain. Blood was seeping from the wounds Zachariah had inflicted on them. Castiel weakly tried to get away, but Zachariah circled him and stuck the blade into his right hand. The younger angel bit back a scream and his entire body shivered from the pain.

The martyred ex-angel could not believe how much pain he was in. He was used to the pain as an angel, but now, it was ten times worst. It was unbearable. He cursed his weak body right now, and how close he was to completely break down. He could not, not in front of Dean's eyes. He did not want the hunter to see him like that; like a weak, useless, pathetic creature.

Zacharia grabbed Castiel's hair and yanked his head backwards, forcing him to arch his back towards him and the angel hissed at the strain it put on his wounded hand. Zacharia suddenly grabbed the base of Castiel's wing with his free hand and the latter froze instantly, understanding what the other had in mind. His eyes widened and he felt a deep fear coil in his stomach.

Zachariah turned his face towards Dean, who was looking at them with unhidden terror, his face devoid of any colors. The cruel angel smiled at the hunter.

"So? Are you ready to say yes?" he asked, pulling a little on the wing, making Castiel hiss and trash in pain.

Castiel turned his pained gaze on Dean, silently pleading him not to do a thing. Dean shook his head, telling Castiel that he could not watch him get hurt anymore. He could not. And yet, when he saw the determination to go through with this shining in the intense blue gaze, Dean could not get himself to say the single word he needed to say to make it all stop.

But at the same time, Dean was not fooling himself. He knew Zachariah was also doing that out of revenge, so he would surely resume his torture once Dean would have handed himself over to Michael.

It did not make him feel better, though. His heart bled out in his chest and Dean fought hard to keep his eyes open. He had to see the result of his stubbornness with his own eyes.

"No," Dean answered in a broken voice, bile rising in his throat at the thought of what would happen.

Zachariah's smile faded. "Such a shame. Off we go, then," he said.

Tightening his hold on both Castiel's hair and wing, he pulled harshly on the wing with a quick movement. With a sickening sound, the wing was torn away from Castiel's back, making him scream agonizingly. Muscles, nerves and tendons were torn apart sickeningly, leaving a bloody mess behind. Castiel writhed in agony and sobs of pain passed his lips. His back burned from where the wing had been torn away, blood seeping from the gaping wound and rolling down his side.

Dean felt tears of agony and anguish well into his eyes, but he refused to shed them. He had to be strong for Cas, for the decision he made to endure all of this for _him_. Always for Dean. Castiel had given everything for him; his home, his family, his life, his faith, and now his grace.

The least Dean could do was look at the result of such devotion and hate himself for it. So he forced himself to watch as Castiel writhed in pain; he forced himself to listen as he sobbed and moaned with the painful sensation of having his wing torn away.

Zachariah threw the large, bloodied wing away and his intense gaze bore into Dean.

"So, did you have enough? Or should I do the same thing with the other wing?" he hissed maliciously, grabbing the base of the other wing with his bloodstained hand.

Castiel bucked violently against him, trying to push him away without any success. Dean did not answer, knowing that he would break down if he did. Instead, he discreetly pulled at his restraints, biting back the wince as the rope rubbed against his raw skin. His jaw was tense and his expression closed off, and Zachariah took it for his negative answer.

"As you wish," he said with a bored expression.

The older angel pulled on the wing, but not enough to tear it off. Castiel winced in pain and panted hard under the unbearable pain. Zachariah pulled harder, tearing the wing slowly, dragging out the pain, making Castiel let out a heart-shattering scream of pure agony. A sickening sound was heard as the other wing got torn off in the same manner.

Another scream echoed into the air and Dean wanted so much to shut his mind to what was happening. But he could not. This was his punishment; watching his angel suffer for him, just like everyone Dean held dear to his heart.

He had stopped fooling himself. The hunter came to realize lately that he did care about Castiel; he just did not know how deep yet. What he knew, though, was that seeing him get hurt and tortured for his sake was tearing his heart into pieces. He strongly wished he could trade places with him.

Zachariah released Castiel who collapsed on the ground, curling in onto himself, his whole body shuddering violently from the pain shooting from his martyred back. Dean felt what little bit he had left of his heart get crushed into nothingness when he saw his angel's face.

Castiel's features were drawn painfully; his bottom lip was bleeding where he had bitten it; but the worst of it was the tears silently rolling down his pale cheeks. Dean never wanted to see such a display of his pain and sorrow.

"Cas..." Dean whispered in a broken voice.

That pained gaze filled with tears instantly met his and all Dean could see was undying devotion and trust. No hatred, no resentment, even if the hell he was going through was all Dean's fault. The hunter would have felt better if Castiel resented him for it.

Zachariah sighed loudly in front of Dean's silence and glared at him, getting impatient.

"I never took you for such a heartless human, Dean. Poor little Castiel; getting tortured for a human who can't even care enough for him," he said.

Dean shot him a deathly glare.

"Oh, I care. I care enough that when I'm going to be free, I'm going to hunt down your feathery ass and make you suffer the same things you did to him!" Dean exclaimed with rage.

While he talked, he felt the blood from his wounded wrists reach the tip of his fingers. A sudden idea bloomed into his head. It would surely not affect Castiel, since he was not an angel anymore. The thought stung him, but he ignored it for now. The hunter used the blood on his fingers to awkwardly begin tracing a known pattern on the palm of his other hand, trying not to show his concentration to his enemy.

Completely oblivious to what Dean was doing, Zachariah snorted and squatted behind Castiel's prone form.

"Then I'll guess I'll continue until you give up. Let us try a different approach," he said darkly.

Zachariah reached a hand to Castiel's back and caressed the fair skin down to his rear. Castiel jerked forward and away from the unwanted touch and Dean did not miss the confusion, fear and disgust appearing in his angel's eyes. Knowing what the older angel had in mind, fury gained Dean and he quickened the pattern his bloodied fingers were making on his skin.

"Don't you fucking touch him!" he roared with anger.

Zachariah laughed and his hand gripped Castiel's hip, keeping him in place and pinning him down, making his weak trashing useless.

"What will you do to stop me? There is only one way and you know it," he said.

Dean smirked then, but it was the phantom of his usual victorious smirk.

"And I say screw you!" he exclaimed, pressing his palm against the completed angel-repelling crest he had traced on his other hand with his blood.

Zachariah's eyes widened when a strong white light appeared into the warehouse. He only had the time to utter a frustrated curse before the blinding light pushed against him and he vanished into thin air.

As soon as he was gone, Castiel's pained gaze was on Dean.

"Dean..." he murmured his name in such a broken tone that Dean felt pain bloom in his chest.

"Hang on, Cas, I'm coming!" he said, pulling against his ropes like a madman.

The blood was making his wrists slippery so he pulled and pulled, feeling his hands slowly slip out of the restrains. However, they blocked when he was at his thumb bone level. Dean kept pulling, and bit back a scream of pain at the painful pressure on his thumbs. It did not stop him though, and he kept pulling like a madman.

Soon, a sickening sound resounded and pain flared in his dislocated thumb. Dean swallowed his scream of pain as he finally yanked one of his hands free. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his hand, he quickly got his other hand free and he fumbled on the restrains at his ankles, his hands shaking with the emotions and panic he felt. Dean needed to get to Castiel quick!

He cursed when he had trouble to undo the ropes because of the blood on his hands, but he managed to succeed after a while. Once he was free, Dean ran to his friend, who was still curled up on himself, shivering uncontrollably on the cold ground. Dean knelt at his side and quickly shed his coat, wrapping it tightly around Cas's frail-looking shoulders.

The hunter then lifted the angel gently until he was cradled in his arms, Dean making sure not to brush his mutilated back and countless wounds.

"Cas... Cas, you're gonna be okay," Dean whispered, his eyes focused on his friend's pale face.

Bright blue eyes shifted on his face and Castiel moved closer to the hunter, his body shivering uncontrollably. His breathing was harsh and he weakly grabbed a fistful of the hunter's shirt.

"Dean... it hurts," Castiel whispered just before coughing violently, and Dean saw with horror his friend cough some of the blood that had filled his punctured lung.

That bastard Zachariah made a number on him. Dean was going to kill him!

The hunter tightened his embrace around Castiel.

"Shh, don't talk. We're going to heal you and then I'm going to get back your grace, I promise," Dean whispered while tightening his grip on his friend, trying to be convincing, but he knew he failed miserably.

Castiel smiled weakly in return. He seemed to want to say something, but his exertion got the better of him and his eyes fluttered close, his head lolling against the hunter's chest as he did so. Dean's heart sank in his chest and he lightly shook Castiel.

When he got no response, he placed shaking fingers against his neck, searching for his pulse. At first, he did not feel it, but soon, he felt it, slow and so faint he felt the panic rise in him. It was no wonder, since Castiel had lost a lot of blood, on top of the trauma of having been tortured.

Dean had to act fast, or else, Castiel would die.

The mere thought of it was unbearable to the hunter. He would not let his angel die for him again! His panicked gaze went to the shackles still around Castiel's wrists and neck. He examined them quickly and cursed when he found no locks on them. Picking them was out of the question, and calling Sam for him to get his ass here asap with the required tools to break the shackles would take too much time.

Zachariah had flown him two states away from where he was currently shacked up with Sam. Castiel would be dead by the time his brother would arrive. Dean had only one option left, and as much as he loathed it, he would do it.

Dean had no idea if it would work and he prayed that it did.

Clutching his unconscious friend closer against his chest, Dean lifted his face towards the ceiling, his eyes pleading and filled with worry.

"Gabriel! Gabriel, can you hear me?! I need your help! It's Cas, he's... he's wounded, and he needs you! Please!" Dean exclaimed, desperation filling his voice.

The archangel Gabriel was his only hope; he was the only angel that was not a complete dick towards them and the only one who could possibly help Castiel. It was Dean's only hope of saving his friend, and that was taking into account that the archangel would care enough about his rebelling brother to save his life.

Silence answered him and Dean felt dread fill him as he thought the archangel had ignored his prayer.

Feeling like all hope was gone, he was beginning to panic when he suddenly heard a rustling of wings and fabric, and a voice called out teasingly from behind him; "Well well, Dean-o, I never thought I'd see the day you'd pray for me."

Dean turned his head towards the voice and his pained gaze fell on Gabriel's amused features. That expression crumbled down when the short blond haired male saw Dean's serious and worried face. He seemed to understand the seriousness of the situation.

Gabriel walked forward and around Dean, and gasped audibly when he took in Castiel's broken and bloodied form. He also did not miss the two torn wings lying on the ground near them. A deep anger emanated from the powerful angel.

"What happened? Who did this to my bro?!" he asked with barely contained anger.

Dean looked straight into Gabriel's gaze. "There's no time for that. We have to get Cas to safety and we have to heal him! He's dying!" the hunter exclaimed with earnest.

Gabriel nodded gravely. "Fine. But you'll have to explain everything to me once he's out of danger," he replied.

Dean nodded and watched as the archangel snapped his fingers, making the shackles break in half, freeing the wounded angel. He then knelt in front of Dean and Castiel. His eyes bore into the hunter's, searching for the place Dean wanted him to zap them to. Soon, Gabriel extended his hands and placed two fingers on Castiel's and Dean's foreheads.

Dean's stomach flipped over as he was once again teleported, but at least the sensation was not there for long. A second later, he was kneeling in the same position, still cradling Castiel, but he was on the floor of the motel room he had rented with Sam.

Talking about Sam, Dean's younger brother was in the room, pacing furiously and talking actively on the phone, and he jumped high in the air when the trio suddenly appeared in the room in front of him. Sam was speechless for a moment, but when he noticed Castiel's prone form cradled in his brother's arms, worry crept onto his face.

"Huh, Bobby, forget about that, Dean's here! I'll call you back!" he said quickly before hanging up.

As soon as he did, Sam approached them, his gaze travelling worriedly between the trio.

"What happened to Cas, Dean?! Where were you?! I searched all over for you!" he exclaimed, trying obviously to keep his calm.

Dean merely got to his feet, still holding the angel against him. "I'll tell you later," he replied urgently as he went to his bed, laying his wounded angel gently on the bed, making sure to cover his nudity with his coat.

He then turned to Gabriel. "Can you heal him? He's bleeding badly!" Dean exclaimed with agitation.

Gabriel joined him near the bed and Dean made a step back to give more place to the archangel to work. Gabriel did not waste time and he placed a hand over Castiel's burning forehead, closing his eyes in concentration. Then, under Dean's unbelieving eyes, Castiel's wounds closed up, his bones mended back together and fell into their rightful place.

When Gabriel removed his hand, Castiel's breathing had gone back to normal, his face was relaxed and he seemed deeply asleep. Dean let out a sigh of relief. He was so focused on Castiel that he had not realized he was indeed wounded too until the archangel had laid his hand on him too, healing him. Dean nodded to Gabriel to show his gratitude and went to Castiel. Gently and carefully, he tucked him under the covers.

Once it was done, he sat on the edge of the bed and looked at his brother and the archangel, who were waiting in tense silence for Dean to explain what happened. So the hunter did, and he had trouble controlling his anger and distress as he recalled the events that happened.

When he finished, Gabriel standing near the bed in which Castiel was resting, Sam sitting on his own bed, the silence was even heavier than it was before. Both of them were as angry as Dean was. Gabriel was the first to react.

"That bastard. Once I get my hands on him, he'll wish he was never born," he said with an intense anger.

Dean did not think Gabriel was capable of such a display and it surprised him. Gabriel looked at Dean.

"I'll search for Zachariah and help you get back my bro's grace. You should focus on staying with Cas. He'll need you," the archangel said, and Dean strangely knew that he was addressing him more them Sam.

Dean frowned, sparing a glance at his angel, asleep under the covers. He did not have the time to ask what Gabriel meant, because the archangel was quick to explain his words.

"He's human now. It never happened to him. He'll need to be taught the basics so he can live as a mortal until I get back his grace. Also, be prepared. His body will probably go into shock pretty soon," he said.

These words alarmed Dean. "What do you mean?" he asked, worried and concerned.

Gabriel's gaze saddened as he looked at his brother.

"His grace has just been ripped off, the very essence of what makes him who he is. Think about it! It's like you humans having your arms and legs cut off! Not only that, but he also got his wings ripped out too. The sudden change in his organism will probably make him sick as a dog. It should not last too long, though," Gabriel assured them.

Dean swallowed hard, trying to fight the dread filling him. He opened his mouth to ask what was plaguing his mind, but in the end he could not bring himself to say the words as he feared the answer.

Sam seemed to understand what he wanted to ask since he threw a sympathetic look at his older brother and asked in his stead; "Cas' wings. Will they grow back when he'll regain his grace?" he asked calmly, skillfully hiding his worry.

Gabriel looked pensive for a while, and ended up shrugging his shoulders.

"I don't have a clue, boys. When an angel falls of his own free will, he burns down his wings in his descent. I haven't seen many of them regain their grace. In Anna's case, when she regained her grace, her wings grew back. Cas' case is not exactly the same, since the wings did not burn and his grace was forced away from him. So I have no idea. Sorry, guys," he answered quietly, and Dean knew he really was sincere.

No matter how cold Gabriel had wanted to appear to them in their last encounter, there was no doubt he cared deeply about his brothers and it surely pained him to see Castiel in such a state. Dean counted himself lucky that they had such a strong ally on their side. Zachariah would regret what he did.

Dean knew by the way the archangel's stance suddenly straightened that he was about to leave. He nodded at Gabriel.

"Thanks, Gabe. Will you keep in touch? If you find Zachariah, I'd like a piece of him myself," he said darkly.

Gabriel smiled at him and saluted the brothers. "Sure thing! Take care of my bro for me," he added and the look on Dean's face assured him that Dean would.

At peace with the situation, Gabriel left the room in a flutter of wings, leaving the two brothers alone with Castiel.

Sam sighed and rose to his feet. He approached his brother and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Dean looked up at Sam and saw his little brother smiling at him.

"Do you want some sleep? I can watch over Cas while you do," he offered, seeing how tired and drained Dean was.

The latter shook his head. "Thanks, Sammy, but I'll do it," he answered simply, his gaze returning on his angel sleeping soundly for now.

Sam nodded, understanding Dean's need to look over Castiel. Sam doubted his brother was conscious of it, but he was really close to the angel, so much that Sam had been aware of their unusual close bond.

"Alright. Just wake me if you need anything," he said softly.

Dean nodded and Sam released his shoulder, going to his own bed and slipping under the covers to get some needed sleep.

Dean got up only to fetch one of the chairs at the table and brought it next to the bed, flopping down on it. Dean then brought his gaze on Castiel's face. The angel was still fast asleep. Seeing him like this, especially now that Gabriel had healed his wounds, Dean could have thought what happened not even an hour ago was but a nightmare.

However, the simple fact that Castiel was _sleeping_, which he did not need as an angel, made it more than real. Seeing this powerful angel of the Lord who had saved his life more than once looking so vulnerable left a really bad taste in his mouth. Dean's only consolation was that his human condition was not a permanent one.

Dean would make damn sure of that. Even if he had to die to get back Castiel's grace, he would do it. It was the least he could do for him.

* * *

**A/N: **So that's it for chapter 1!

What did you guys think? I'd like to know your opinion to know if this story is worth continuing!

In any case, thanks so much for reading me! Readers are my inspiration! ^^

See you next time!

Rose


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